


Words Like Scars

by AgentMalkere



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, but there is still hope, that gajevy soulmates au that nobody asked for, there's enough trauma for everybody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 22:04:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6347401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentMalkere/pseuds/AgentMalkere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levy has never been able to read the words written across her skin, nor has Gajeel been able to read the words written on his, but this was never a problem until Phantom Lord's iron dragon slayer attacked three Fairy Tail wizards in an attempt to incite a war. Everything might have been destroyed before it even had a chance to begin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words Like Scars

Levy has always loved the words written across her skin. They wrap around her ribs on her left side in loops and swirls. She can’t read them. They’re not written in any alphabet that Levy can understand or was even able to identify for many years. Those strange, yet beautiful, letters are one of the reasons she loves learning new languages. It isn’t until she’s fifteen that Levy discovers that her soulmark is in Draconic. Not even Natsu, who claims to have been raised by a dragon, can read Draconic, though he can speak a little. Levy spends the next several years wondering how and where she is going to meet someone who writes in a language which has been all but lost. 

Even in a world full of magic, soulmate marks are rare. Levy has always thought of herself as lucky. Despite all the losses in her life, there is a person out there who is the other half of her soul, and she can’t wait to meet the person who writes in such beautiful, curling letters. 

 

These days Gajeel tends to forget he even has a soulmark, and the little part of him that does remember wonders why it hasn’t faded away, because nobody has ever wanted him. Not his parents, not even Metalicana in the end. His words are written in a delicate, curling hand across the right side of his ribs. As a child he found them fascinating because he didn’t recognize the language they were written in. Metalicana couldn’t read them either, though he thought it looked like one of the human alphabets. The old iron dragon had never bothered to learn to read any of the human languages, which was why he had taught Gajeel to read and write the Old Script instead. Gajeel still writes in the Old Script. In Phantom Lord, jobs are generally verbally assigned instead of simply being posted and free to any who want them. Nobody has figured out, yet, that he can’t read Fioran, and even if they did, nobody would dare to question Black Steel Gajeel. They know better. 

All the grief and anger boiling inside him have condensed into a kind of violent madness, taking his pain out on anyone who dares to cross his path. Gajeel doesn’t even want to know what his words say anymore, because a tiny, self-aware part of him thinks that he’s more monster than man now. No one would ever want that, want him. He doesn’t deserve a soulmate, and nobody should have to be saddled with a monster like him, so he does his best to forget the words he can’t read and slips further and further into madness. 

 

“Looks like I found a little fairy without any wings.” 

“No! Stay back! Solid Script: Fire!” 

 

Gajeel reaches out to grab the blue haired fairy. Master Jose wants to start a war with Fairy Tail, and if destroying their guildhall hadn’t been enough, then Gajeel will take things a step further. His world is a haze of red and hurt, and just the thought of someone else he can take all this pain out on makes his blood sing. The blue haired fairy leaps back just far enough that Gajeel’s fingers grab the front of her vest instead of her arm. Whatever. He yanks. The young woman braces her feet. The vest rips open. Gajeel dodges a hit from one of her teammates, pulls back his fist, solidifying it into iron. Her torn vest flutters aside in the night breeze- 

_Looks like I found-_

Gajeel freezes as his eye catches sight of his own, familiar handwriting. He falters. Suddenly the red haze that has been soaking his existence for the past three years is gone, like it never existed. His fist becomes flesh again and falls limply to his side. He takes one step back and then another. He doesn’t even feel the blow that slams into his shoulder from the guy with the hat. 

What- What has he done? 

“No.” He’s mumbling to himself, and he really doesn’t care because Gajeel has just woken from one nightmare into another. How could he have done this? If he hadn’t seen her words- He’d been planning to play with them for a while and then finish beating them bloody and crucify them to a tree. What had he been _thinking_? When had he turned into _this_? He’s finally met the other half of his soul, and he had nearly _killed her_. 

Gajeel doesn’t even notice that no one was trying is trying to attack him anymore. He leans against a wall and throws up. 

 

Levy doesn’t understand why the man from Phantom Lord isn’t attacking them anymore. One moment he’d been preparing to hit her with a solid chunk of metal and a crazed look in his eyes, the next his eyes cleared and he had abruptly looked horrified. He’d backed away from Levy like she was the culmination of all his greatest fears, not even trying to dodge Jet’s strike. Now he’s leaning against a wall being violently ill. What changed? Jet and Droy are flanking her uncertainly, not sure what they should be doing now. 

A breeze catches Levy’s ruined vest, tickles her bare skin. The man hadn’t stopped until after her vest had torn open. But why-? 

_He saw her mark._

A chill, like icy, jagged slivers, runs through her veins. 

Now that he’s not being sick, the man is talking to himself. 

“No. Can’t be. What have I done?” The pieces fit together in Levy’s head. She takes a step closer, and he throws up shaking hands to ward her off. “No! Don’t come any closer!” 

“You’re Phantom Lord’s dragon slayer, aren’t you?” Levy takes another step forward, and the man all but shrinks back against the wall behind him. “You can read Draconic.” 

He lets out a hollow and despairing laugh. 

“Of _course_ I can read Draconic. It’s the only damn language I _can_ read.” He’s running trembling fingers through his hair now and looks like he might be sick again. Levy thinks she might be sick as well. 

“Show me your mark.” Because she needs to see. Needs to know that her suspicions are correct. It’s eating her up inside. He hesitates. “ _Please._ ” Levy rarely ever begs, but she will if she has to. 

His shoulders slump, and he pulls his black tunic over his head. And there is her own, familiar handwriting curling across the right side of his ribs. 

_No! Stay back!_

Levy’s gut clenches. She used to imagine how she would meet her soulmate when she was a child. She came up with thousands of scenarios, but never anything like this. 

“That’s what ya said, right?” His voice sounds dull and dead. Resigned. 

“Yes.” 

He pulls his tunic back on. 

“Master Jose wants to start a war with Fairy Tail, but Phantom Lord’s also been hired to retrieve one of the wizards in your guild. She’s a runaway, and her father’s willing to pay dearly to get her back. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.” He lifts his hand to his right shoulder, presses with his palm, and wipes slowly down. When he removes his hand, his red Phantom Lord guild mark is gone. He turns to leave. His hands are still shaking. 

“Wait!” Levy doesn’t understand why she calls out, but something deep inside her can’t stand to see him go. This is not the fairy tale she has always dreamed of. It’s dirty and ragged and horrible – the worst kind of beginning imaginable – but she still doesn’t want it to be an ending as well. “Come back to Fairy Tail with us.” 

The man hesitates. Stares at her like she’s lost her mind, and maybe she has. 

“You don’t want me. I _destroyed_ your guildhall. I was planning to _beat you unconscious._ ” 

“But you stopped. You didn’t follow through.” And it’s a small thing, but it makes a difference. All the difference in the world. Because if this man’s words are written on her skin and hers are written on his, he can’t be wholly beyond redemption. She holds out one slightly shaking hand, and it may very well be the bravest and stupidest thing she’s ever done. “You don’t have to throw yourself back into darkness. Everybody deserves at least one second chance.” 

Maybe it would have been different if the fight had lasted longer – if Levy had more than just a few bruises and a cracked rib. Maybe then she would have let him walk away, too afraid to reach out. But this feels like the right thing to do. She never wants to look back on this moment and feel regret.

Jet and Droy are staring at her like she’s lost her mind. So is the man, but he’s also looking at her like she is the single most amazing thing he’s ever seen. Like she’s salvation that he didn’t even know he was looking for. Ever so slowly, he reaches out and gently grasps her fingers as if he’s afraid he might break her or that she might disappear like smoke. She squeezes his gloved hand. 

“I’m Levy McGarden.” 

“Gajeel Redfox.” He’s still watching her like he’s waiting for the trick or for her to vanish. 

Levy turns to Jet and Droy, careful not to let go of Gajeel’s hand in case he tries to bolt. 

“I know it’s late, but we should probably go see Master Makarov now.” Both of them nod dumbly. They’re probably going to yell at her later. She glances at Gajeel again. Levy can feel the way his muscles are still shuddering. This isn’t a good beginning. Levy is probably going to curl up in a corner and cry once all the adrenaline wears off. But it is a beginning, and she can work with that for now. Because having those words on her skin means that even this horrible beginning might be worth a chance. “Maybe, when this is all over, I can teach you to read Fioran.”

Gajeel nods in silent agreement, but there’s something a little like hope in his eyes. 

There are no promises, no guarantees, not even a proper apology, yet, but it’s a start.

 

Gajeel follows the blue haired fairy who turned out to be an angel. He doesn’t deserve a second chance, but he’s not about to let this slip through his fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Tie-Dyed Trickster, this story did not plummet straight off the deep end into tragedy, but it was close. I might still write that version someday. 
> 
> This is also partially dedicated to ourladyorperpetual-exhaustion on tumblr for waiting so patiently.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
